Lighter Side Of Life

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Alas In Wonderland – Off With Their Heads…

Published February 7, 2014 by Information General

A holiday to Cape Town is the scene of yet another hysterical event, though perhaps not as calamitous as what we have come to expect from my friend, even so, this story deserves to be told, ‘cos it is rather funny.

I want to take this opportunity to lay a foundation for the story to follow. While in school, my friend and I would have sleep overs every weekend and some week nights. She would come over to my home and I would visit hers’ on a regular basis. Even though I would be spending only a weekend at her home, I would arrive at school with three bags, to last from Friday to the following Monday, and though this was initially questioned, it became the norm. Not that I had 15 different outfits packed, I often didn’t have everything I needed! One such weekend, I arrived at school with all of one bag! Half way into the morning classes my friend could no longer contain her irritation, as she had thought I had forgotten that we were spending the weekend together. I proudly and rather dismissively replied: “I learnt how to fold.” Neither of us were any good at packing, folding or hanging away our clothes, but we could tell you exactly where any item of clothing was at anytime, even though they covered the bedroom floor and any other space that was within reach!

neon openWith this in mind, I want to transport you to the holiday in question. Possibly 17 years of age, when they arrived in Cape Town, they were eager to get out and explore the city and its offerings. Staying a stones throw from the V&A Waterfront, of course this was their first port of call. The exact amount of time they spent walking the vast, brightly lit walk ways of the center, is unclear, but it is sure that when they eventually returned to their rental home, the sun had long time set and they were shrouded in darkness.

Something had alerted them to there being an irregularity at the home, so in stead of attempting to enter a potentially dangerous situation, they called the local police, who wasted no time at all to come to the defense of three ladies; Mum and the sisters.   Bears

The police commended them on their wise thinking telling them that by calling the police, they had done the correct thing. The two brave constables, guns drawn entered the property. The ladies stood a safe distance and discussed the possibilities. After watching the flash lights shine beams through the windows, the ladies eagerly awaited the police constables report. Fortunately, they said, there was no one in the property, but they were very sorry to report that the one bedroom had been ran-sacked and they would have to go and have a look, touching as little as possible, to identify the stolen items.

Of course, the ladies were devastated, and tentatively stepped into the holiday rental. Holding their breath and praying that nothing too sentimental had been taken, they climbed the stairs to the bedrooms above. Only SketchGuru_20131126043802once they had entered the bedrooms, did they come to realize that they had not been burgled, and nothing had been taken; the bedroom in question belonged to my friend. She had only been in the holiday home perhaps 30 to 45 mins, but she had covered her bedroom floor with every item of clothing she had brought! 


Alas In Wonderland…The Time Has Come The Walrus Said, To Speak Of Other Things…

Published December 18, 2013 by Information General

This addition to the compilation of calamitous events, will be a little different from those before, though very relevant to us all. And much of this,I am quite sure, my sweet friend would have performed on more than one occasion!

So, settle in to these other things, like cabbages and kings.


Perhaps it is only my generation and only the female portion of that generation, that often portrayed themselves as being older than their actual years. Or perhaps it happens in previous and subsequent generations as well.

I remember, at age 10 or 11, I just wanted to be 16. This was a dream to live for!

Then at 13 or 14, 16 no longer held as much intrigue as did 18, and 18 became a new goal. This held, until I actually turned 18, at which time, nothing had really changed. 21 held no real excitement, other than now, I was held personally responsible, by law, for any and all the decisions I made. Scary.
30 Was a wonderful year. Things started to make sense. I actually, for the first time, truly accepted myself, which resulted in my acceptance of others. Possibly the best year of my life. The years between 30 and 37, should be the place where everyone stops aging!

We’re mature enough to be responsible, with compassionate understanding of the world around us, level-headed enough not to put ourselves into unnecessary danger, with bodies still young enough to enjoy all means of physical activities. You’re no longer the teenager who believes they know everything, or the elderly who have forgotten everything.

Age brings with it memory loss. You know what I’m talking about. You’re halfway through telling a story, then forget where it was leading, so try to divert the conversation so as not to look as though you’re losing your mind. Someone steps in and starts a new discussion, offering you much needed reprieve and then, as if by magic, you remember the conclusion of your tale and try bring it back into conversation. Not realizing, that the group had changed and no one had any clue what you’re on about.
Or when you’re asked the name of a book, movie, actor or actresses and know that the answer is somewhere hidden within your cerebral cortex, but it just won’t drop. You go through the entire day trying to coax the answer down, to no avail. Then at about 1:30 in the morning, you sit up, loudly exclaim the answer, with no explanation, causing your spouse to have a near death experience, due to fright and guaranteed hours of confusion as a result of your outburst. And then, if you have a considerate spouse or one who keeps note of important things; and I mean keeps note, with pen and paper, on your next birthday you open up your gift to find either a copy of the book, movie or DVDs starring the blurted out actor or actress. Leaving you confused as to why they would get you this, because of course, you will have forgotten about the incident.

A lot of time is spent walking from one room to another to collect something, only to forget what it was halfway there. So you return to the first room when you realize that what you need is in the other room, so you make your way back, to stand there while your family or colleagues ask you; “what you want? Why are you here?” To which you reply; “I don’t know.”

Children aren’t like this, that would explain why they maintain such a youthful complexion, they don’t furrow their brows trying to remember things, ‘cos they don’t have to. They have a walk, a purposeful walk, not like the adult shuffle, but a determined stride that catches your eye. So you ask; “why you going over there?”  And without hesitation they reply; “because I’ve got a harmonica.” “what are you doing with a harmonica?” You ask. “I’m going to put it in the toilet.” The youth replies. “why?” You ask, to which is replied; “enough questions, I’m in control of it.” Remember teenagers are of the belief they have all the answers, and this deliberate act had probably been thought out for a full 5 or so minutes. Who are you to argue?

There is a point, as our bodies start reacting slower to the impulses sent from the brain and we experience pains in places we never realised we had, so instead of wanting to be older, we start wanting to be younger. At 50 we claim we’re only 40 or 45. At 60, only 50 or 55 and at 70 we try to convince others we’re all of 58. Your children become younger too. You couldn’t very well have a child of 28 if you’re only 40!

Some wish to be younger in body, but to retain the wisdom we believe we’ve acquired throughout the years. An unfair advantage, on every level on an unsuspecting world as a whole. Boys would have the stamina and capabilities to out work fellow colleagues, to positions of seniority within businesses, though not as sexually active. While girls would be wise to the lies of boys who are in their sexual prime, but wouldn’t care, as they had recently only blossomed into their sexual prime. Becoming “cougars” of a younger age, with a better sense of preparation than that of a 20 year old.

Eventually, the acceptance of age catches up and one no longer tries to out-wit it. This could of course, be as a direct result of the fact that we’ve forgotten how old we actually are!


In The Fast Lane On Only Three Wheels

Published May 14, 2013 by Information General

In the beginning…when i was first thinking about this compilation of tales, i was in serious contemplation over the name. It was either to be; “Alas In Wonderland” or “In The Fast Lane On Only Three Wheels”. Obviously the decision was made and now we have “Alas”, but still, Fast lane has it’s compelling properties, simply for the basis for the name, a tale which now i will tell, with much hilarity at the memory!delighting in everything

 Many of these unbelievable and calamitous events, happened to occur, while driving, or using other means of transport, so within this report; I will include three separate occasions, each as funny as the next though as different as fire and ice.

Let me start with the evening my dear friend had started the party rather early in the afternoon and took it through to the night club of choice, which we mentioned in previous posts. As this was still at a time that limits had not been set to the closing of certain establishments and the sale of liquor, you can be sure that it was well in the wee hours of the following morning that she decided that perhaps it would be a good time to make her way home. As she lives a good way out of the hustle and bustle of mid-town, she braced herself for a 45 to 50 min. drive. This of course, appearing much longer in the mind of one who had by this time well saturated. Once the city street lights increased their regularity to perhaps  500 feet between them, so her eyelids became weighted, and as the darkness of the road engulfed her, so the weights overpowered her heavy lids, and at the very next traffic light, won the battle. Right there in the middle of a four way intersection, she went to sleep. The engine running and her slumped over the wheel, to sleep, per chance to dream. I am told it was a good 40 to 45 mins. later that she was rudely awakened by a traffic policeman rapping wildly on her window, shining his flash light directly into her face. “Are you alright?” He asked, to which she quickly and convincingly answered; “Yes, yes officer, I am just waiting for my friend who is taking a wee.” “Oh” he replied and walked away, and as soon as the traffic light turned green for her again, she put peddle to the mettle and made her escape…without her supposed, now urine free companion. Well of course, you can imagine the look on the traffic cops face as she “left her friend behind”.

Another evening, which involves transport and night’s out includes me. It had been many a weekend that passed without incident, perhaps as she had not been out in some time; but this specific evening we had made all the necessary arrangements so that we could make a night of it, and went out! As she had not been out in sometime, she decided to make up for any wasted moments. I am still not sure exactly what she had, as I was sure I had matched her one for one, but I was still standing, she on the other hand, not so much.

Me, being the more “level-headed”, decided it best that we make our way home, and of course, I would be doing the driving. Though I had not been in the area for a number of years, I was pretty lost and needed directions, as the infrastructure had changed so dramatically over the past few years I had been away. I managed to get the necessary directions out of my precious friend before she slumped down on the passenger seat of the infamous manicured beetle, and I started to drive. Not really sure of where I was, knowing where I was supposed to be going and pretty sure I was on the correct highway, I drove for what felt like a very long time, every couple kilometers nudging her awake to ensure we were on the right track, until eventually I recognized a building, as being one that was possibly 10 to 15 mins away from home, and with a sigh of relief, took the turn and made our way home.

I parked the car in the in front of the garage, now came the next challenge…getting us inside! Now for me, this was not to be a problem, though getting my friend in would prove to be somewhat more challenging.

After about 7 to 10 minutes of rousing her form her slumber, I convinced her that bed was far more comfortable, and she agreed, and opened the door and politely fell out! Leaving her feet in the car, with her butt nestled up against the beetles foot-board, feet in the air and skirt over her head. Myself, still in the drivers seat, could not move for laughing, for a further 10 minutes.

The third incident took place when the twins were on their way out.

On their 18th birthday, their dad had bought them an old “bakkie”, beige in colour and mechanically sound, though the body was in need of serious repair. The driver side door was held closed by a strong nylon rope, which was somehow wrapped around the frame and the door, keeping the door securely closed. This car/van, had a name, as did all our cars, as mentioned before, and “he” took them safely where they were to go. This specific evening, though calamitous, was no different.

While driving, listening to music and laughing at their conversation, the sisters heard a strange “bumping” sound, and the car jolted, ever so slightly. Wide eyes looking at each other, they continued their journey, in the fast lane, when suddenly they were over taken…by their rear wheel! It took them a few seconds to realize that they had lost a wheel, which was clearly in more of a hurry to reach their destination than they were, but when the reality dawned on them, they pulled over and doubled up in laughter, making a phone call to me to retell of their latest encounter! Being in the Fast Lane On Only Three Wheels!

Alas In Wonderland – A Mad Haters Party…

Published March 15, 2013 by Information General

Let’s take another look at the missing years between the previous posts. As promised there are many a tale to fill the gaps.

The story I will regale you with now, refers to an evening of gay frivolity, of no specific occasion other than fun. The timeline here falls somewhere between now and then and at a time that some unrestrained entertainment was well over due. As was usual, the promise of a calamitous affair was imminent and well planned by the Murphy’s of nature. Sit back and relax as I take you to an evening some time in the past.

It was at this time that my friend drove a very reliable deep maroon red VW Beetle, possibly a 1972, 1600 with back seat belts. You will recall I mentioned that she was a child-minder and this happened to be a pre-requisite of the position. The name of the car, as we all named our vehicles, and still do, escapes me, but this does not take away from the fact that she was well loved, and cared for!61674_10151163219865922_351767250_a

It was decided that an evening spent at the night club of choice was deserved, not that it took very much to deserve this, and so, my friend and as many of the crowd that could force themselves into the tiny little red demon, made the necessary arrangements. Of which, I must add, included purchasing alcohol to be consumed before the time, as it was quite simply the more frugal thing to do! I will not make mention of the amount of alcohol that had been purchased and the number of people it was to satisfy, let’s suffice it to say that they were well lubricated by the time they had arrived at the designated venue.

At this point I feel forced to explain, that they were young and the consequences’ of drinking and driving were not their first priority. With youth comes irresponsibility, as well as a number of other selfish behaviors  which I am pleased to report, are no longer an issue in any of our lives!

Let’s get back to the party at hand. So here they are, at least five or six of them, playing squash in her red VW Beetle, having just stepped out of the club to “whet the whistle” once again at the bar they sported in the car, which had been parked down some dingy alley, without street lights, so as to deflect detection from otherwise prying eyes.

Being well plastered, with music blaring as loud as it could blare from the 60watt speaker, they gaily took from the proffered bottle, containing the alcoholic beverage and mix, while entertaining each other with conversation and laughter. Then, while in mid-sentence, my friend felt somewhat uncomfortable as an uncharacteristically warm sensation seemed to settle in the area of her buttocks. Accompanied was a sensation of smoky atmosphere and the scent of burning fiber  Though there were smokers in the group, none were permitted to smoke in the car, and so the idea of a dropped cigarette was not even a possibility. But as the warm sensation turned to hot and the atmosphere to stifling, it was time to take serious heed of what was happening beneath there buttocks!

As six bodies piled out of the tiny little manicured beetle, one could not escape the flames that billowed from the edges of the back seat! You see, what had happened was that last service my friend had taken the beetle to, had done all the necessary and a wonderful job, but had neglected to replace the battery cover, and somehow the wires had made contact with the flammable fibers of the under-seat and took light!

As with all these unbelievable stories, nothing was damaged beyond repair and no one experienced injury beyond that of a shattered ego!

A mad haters party indeed!

Alas In Wonderland – From Big To Small And Back Again…

Published March 10, 2013 by Information General


This tale involves a pair of shoes, revolving door and pockets. If you are in tune with the the calamitous life of my friend, i know you will already have a story mapped out in your mind. I am also quite sure, that when you hear the actual events that took place at this specific time, you will not believe that it really happened. But let me assure you, every word you read, is gospel, and i will attempt to be as accurate as possible.

Time has elapsed between this event and that of when my friend went down the rabbit hole, a good couple years actually, but we will certainly revisit the years missed in future posts, i have writers prerogative and for the sake of continuity, i have chosen this as the next event of which i will speak.

By this time, my friend has grown to a beautiful, if some what hippie young lady, still sporting the voluptuous hips, tiny waist and huge, “come save me” eyes. She dresses only in long flowing skirts and skimpy single strap tops. She does not wear panties, though is forced to wear a supportive bra. You must understand, that this is not as a result of gravity, but rather size. She forms the perfect hourglass figure, if somewhat stout and vertically challenged. We’re in our early 20’s; i say “we” because our birthdays are a day apart. And my precious friend remains gullible, in the most charming way. Pretending to be all grown up, while running amok bare foot all over town, whether at a house party or the mall, she would very seldom be seen wearing shoes. The only time she forced her tiny size 5 foot into a shoe, it was a Doc Martin boot, which was all the rage in the “alternative” life style, and this only happened when going to her favorite night club, where calamity and embarrassing moments were left in her wake. We will revisit these another time too.

For a number of years, there was a tele-marketing company that would call you up and guarantee you a weekend away at some or other resort, for you, your partner and four friends. Sounds too good to be true, well that’s because it was. In order to get your “prize” you had to attend a two hour talk, broken into a one hour collective discussion and then a personal one on one with an aggressive, hard core sales agent. It was only after you had spent this time being brow beaten into purchasing time share, that you were offered a box with a number of sealed envelopes, of which you were to choose one. This one envelope, could even possibly contain a TV, camera and other such items, or just simply the get away voucher. I believe that of the close to 50 000 of these envelopes, perhaps one contained a TV, 2 a camera and the rest the “holiday” voucher. I can hear you saying: “but that’s not a bad deal,” but wait, you’ve not heard the conditions applied to the entire transaction.

  1. You were to get there on your own steam
  2. You were to purchase dinner each night that you stayed there
  3. You had to be at least 26 years of age and a professional of some sort
  4. You had to be married
  5. And of course, both you and your spouse had to make the two hour presentation, which just by the way, took place across town and on specific days

Keep in mind now, that we were in our early 20’s possibly 21 or 22, but when my friend heard that she had “won a weekend getaway”, she was determined to get it! On the spur of the moment, she “confirmed” that she was at least 26 years of age, married and was gainfully employed as a professional, when in truth, she was not married and was employed as a child minder, a nanny if you will, to a lovely family with 2 lovely children and of course, only 21 years of age! She agreed to a time and day to attend the “talk” and now had to find a husband, a professional career and five years, within a four or five day period!


After convincing a close guy friend to play the part of her husband, she was left with the clothing dilemma! Remember, she no shoes other than Doc Martin’s and though she could somehow pull of the flowing skirts as professional’s wardrobe, how was she to pull off the Doc Martin’s? This challenge she solved by asking to borrow another person’s shoes. She was loaned a pair of pumps, that as it would happen, were at least a size too large. The only reason i think she was forced to wear these shoes, is because i believe that it was a last moment decision and they were the only one’s available.


They arrived at the designated site, and introduced themselves as Mr and Mrs “whatever”, trying very hard to look like the proverbial, up and coming, young  professional couple. The young gentleman, who happened to be possibly 2 years older than her, was in fact a professional and worked in the IT industry, he also had a more mature face, so could pass for 26, also being in the corporate world, he had a professional wardrobe. But my sweet friend, wore borrowed shoes, her long flowing skirt and a bright cerise pink jacket, as it turned out to be a very cold and wet evening. Shall we call them, The Smith family, for the want of a surname.

So Mr and Mrs Smith, our young professional married couple, arrived about 15 mins late for the presentation and were ushered into a large hall, with lines and lines of chairs facing the front where a person stood giving them the benefits of time share. They seated themselves at the back, as naughty children always do, and chatted and giggled throughout the entire presentation. I neglected to mention that, before they had even left for the presentation, our dear Mr Smith was already well on his way to total intoxication, and he was very funny when intoxicated!

After they had been stared at and admonished for making so much noise throughout the presentation, they were “collected” by a sales agent, who introduces himself and lead the way to the sales office, which was up a flight of stairs. When my friend feels a little out of place, she would hide her hands in her pockets, which is precisely what she did on this specific day, the pockets in her bright cerise pink anorak. While making their way, my friend taking two steps for every one of “her husband’s” and the sales agent, she suddenly realized that she had walked right out of the newly acquired pumps, leaving them in her wake. Quickly she double backed and slipped them back over her tiny feet and rushed to make the stairs before she was to lose the team ahead. Taking the stairs as quickly and safely possible, she proceeded up to the sales office.

Mr Smith explains what he heard next as a “ooh” and dead thud! He quickly turned, leaving the confused sales man to look on in disdain as he made his way to his fallen “wife.” That’s right, somehow my friend had managed to fall UP stairs! With her hands still firmly embedded within her pockets, she was unable to stop her fall and went down / up, face first. She had pinned herself in this rather embarrassing position, as she was unable to remove her hands that were now securely pinned under her! Of course, Mr Smith started to laugh, as he was also familiar with my friends calamitous life, and she could be heard laughing a muffled laugh into the plush carpets of the sales office stairway. Eventually, Mr Smith, being quite a strong young man, physically lifted her to her feet and righted her again, and as though nothing unusual or out of the ordinary had just happened, they proceeded to the designated area with their salesman.

They politely listened to the reasons and counter acting reasons as given by the sales agent, until eventually he accepted that they would have to go home and “discuss it over their finances before making any commitments”. When the agent realized that there was no sales here, he called over to the supervisor, who brought over the illustrious box of prize envelopes and they drew. Now to be able to tell you that they picked one of the bigger prizes, would be great, but also a lie. They were given the weekend giveaway at one of the timeshare resorts they had just declined purchasing. But my friend was happy, she had achieved her objective, and fortunately, not once, were they asked to produce their ID or other personal identification, so they could leave, prize in hand and thoughts of the weekend away!

This time though, my friend held tight to the railing, so as not to fall down the stairs, reached the landing without incident and proceeded to the exit. This door was kept closed by a newly put up hydraulic spring which just pushed it closed if anyone had neglected to pull it shut behind them. She was almost there, the finish line in sight, her “prize” securely stowed away in Mr Smith’s pants pocket, and only perhaps another four regular steps to victory! Mr Smith was leading the way, and reached the door before she had. Being as short as she is, she would quite comfortably pass below the armpit of her close guy friend and often did, as he held various and numerous doors open for her, so as she neared the door, that Mr Smith had already opened , she turned to say “good bye” and … no she didn’t walk into the door, she walked under her friend’s arm just a couple seconds too late! He had already released the door and it had started it’s rapid  return to the closed position. The velocity with which this door hit my friend from behind, propelled her, without breaks onto the parking lot, almost knocking her to her face, but instead she buried her face into the back of her friend, who by standing where he was at that second, saved my friend the pain and embarrassment of the pavement! As though this would have been any more embarrassing than her evening had already been.